The Smouldering Flame. Anne Mather
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‘I came to see you,’ she answered simply.
‘For God’s sake, why?’ His eyes were dark amber in the shadowy light, his skin brown and oiled with sweat. ‘Joanna, I broke with—with the family ten years ago. There was no reason for you to come here—’
‘Yes, there was.’ She was standing beside the bed now, and she twisted her hands tightly together as she looked down at him. She had been an adolescent when he went away, and the things she had noticed about him then, were not the things she was noticing now. Since his departure, she had grown up, had known the touch of a man’s lips, the urgency of his caresses, and she could understand only too well why Camilla Langley regarded any woman as a threat where Shannon was concerned. He was disturbingly attractive, even in this weakened state, and Joanna went cold when she realised what she was thinking.
Stepping back from the bed, she hastened into speech: ‘Daddy—Daddy’s had a stroke,’ she got out jerkily. ‘A massive stroke, the doctors say, and he’s partially paralysed because of it.’
Shannon’s face registered no visible emotion, but it was several moments before he said: ‘What has that to do with me?’
Joanna took a deep breath, and as she warmed to her cause it was easier to forget her feelings of a few moments ago. ‘He wants to see you, Shannon. He wants to talk to you. He wants you to come back to England—’
‘No!’
‘Why not?’ There was desperate appeal in her voice. ‘Oh, Shannon, you don’t know what it’s been like. Mummy’s half out of her mind with worry, and the doctors say that if Daddy has a second stroke——’ She broke off, biting her lower lip. ‘You know what it would mean.’
‘It’s not my concern.’
Shannon was looking straight ahead, not at her, and his profile was hard and unyielding.
‘You don’t mean that!’ she exclaimed disbelievingly.
‘I do.’ His hands clenched on the sheet that covered him. ‘My life is here, in Africa, in gold mining. I have no interest in anything else.’
Joanna caught her breath. ‘I—I can’t—I won’t accept that.’
‘You’ll have to.’
Joanna forgot herself sufficiently to kneel on the floor beside the bed and take one of his hands between both of hers. But he wrenched his hand away, and ignominiously, she burst into tears. It had all been too much—the long complicated journey, the hostility which had awaited her here, at Kwyana, and now Shannon’s utter rejection. It was so disappointing, and she buried her face in her arms and allowed the sobs which welled up inside her to shake her whole body.
‘Oh, for the Lord’s sake, Joanna!’
His feet appeared on the floor beside her, and he wrenched his bathrobe from the foot of the bed, thrusting his arms into the sleeves and wrapping it around him before hauling her up into his arms. Her face was pressed between the lapels of the robe, against the curling dark hair which covered that area of his chest, and her mouth and nostrils were filled with the taste and the smell of him. He held her closely until her sobs subsided, and she felt a wonderful sense of security in his arms. But when she lifted her face to look at him, he pushed her almost roughly away and sank down weakly on to the side of the bed.
‘It’s no use, Joanna,’ he said harshly. ‘You’re wasting your time here. I will not be coming back to England.’
Joanna rubbed her wrists across her cheeks, and saw his eyes narrow as they alighted on the solitaire diamond which occupied the third finger of her left hand. Ignoring the query in his eyes, she exclaimed: ‘Why not? Don’t you care about us any more?’
Shannon lay back wearily against the pillows. ‘That’s a futile question. My feelings are not involved. When I left the estate, your father knew I would never come back.’
‘Unless he begged you to do so!’ protested Joanna desperately.
‘Is that what he’s doing?’ Shannon turned scornful eyes in her direction. ‘Sending you to plead his case?’
‘He couldn’t come himself!’ she cried. ‘Don’t you understand? He’ll never walk again! And if necessary, I’ll beg, Shannon. I’m not proud!’
‘Unfortunately, I am.’
‘Oh, Shannon, please! Don’t send me home alone!’
Joanna was extending an appealing hand towards him when after the briefest of warnings, Camilla Langley let herself into the room. Immediately, Joanna’s hand fell to her side and she turned away, self-consciously aware of the tear stains on her cheeks, and her still-damp hair tumbling untidily from the topknot in which she had secured it. Her purple jeans and matching denim shirt looked boyish beside Camilla’s voluptuous elegance, the other woman having shed her uniform in favour of a slim-fitting shift of yellow silk which moulded every inch of her curving body. Joanna wished she had brought a dress to wear, but her clothes still lay in the suitcase at the hotel in Menawi.
Ignoring the girl, Camilla approached the bed, frowning when she realised Shannon had been out of it. Taking his wrist between her fingers, she checked his pulse rate, and then cast an impatient look in Joanna’s direction.
‘I thought you would have more sense than to upset your brother, Miss Carne,’ she stated coldly. ‘I warned you that you should stay away from him until he was recovered.’
‘Oh, come on, Camilla!’ muttered Shannon irritably, before Joanna could reply. ‘I’m not an invalid. As a matter of fact, I intend going back to work in a couple of days.’
‘That would be very foolish!’ Camilla put her hands on her hips. ‘There’s nothing going on at the mine that requires your personal attention. I hear that Douglas Forbes is managing very well.’
‘Do you? Well, I’ll decide when I go back to work, thank you.’ Shannon levered himself up on his elbow. ‘If you’ve come to stick needles into me, let’s get it over with, shall we?’
Camilla compressed her lips. ‘When Miss Carne has left us,’ she said.
Shannon sighed and looked at Joanna. ‘Yes, Jo, you’d better leave us,’ he agreed heavily. ‘Go get some sleep. We’ll talk again in the morning.’ He paused. ‘Before you leave.’
His message was loud and clear, and a triumphant, pro-vocative smile curved Camilla’s lips. But Joanna chose not to listen. With a muffled exclamation, she crossed the room and let herself out of the door, not even trusting herself to tell him goodnight.
The living room was in darkness, and she switched on the light and went inside, closing the door behind her. Someone, she guessed it had been Jacob, had left her a glass of iced lime juice beside her bed, a cover protecting it from dust and insects. At the windows, the barrage of moths began again with the appearance of the light, and with a sigh she went and drew the blinds, too weary to pay them much attention.
As she undressed, she refused to think about tomorrow. Tiredness was taking its toll of her, and all she wanted was to crawl between the sheets and seek oblivion in sleep. Circumstances always seemed that much blacker at night, not least the knowledge of her awareness of Shannon. But when he had held her in his arms, she had wanted to stay there, and getting that reaction into perspective was not an easy thing to do.
The possibility of the failure of her mission was something she had not considered up till now. Until this evening she had felt convinced that once he knew the facts of the situation, Shannon could not fail to respond to them. He must remember what a proud and virile man their father had been, tall and upright, how he had loved walking and riding, physical pursuits of all kinds. To be deprived of everything in one cruel blow should arouse some compassion in his son. Shannon’s bitterness and rejection seemed out of all proportion after all these years, and she could hardly believe that the row they had had was wholly responsible for the way Shannon felt now.
She put